Silver Tears
by KaeJae17
Summary: Set in HBP. Draco looks back on his life and his mission. Sometimes the greatest pleasure comes with following your impulses. HPDM sort of thrown in at the end. No plot, don't bother looking for one. The ending is ridiculously random.


**Author's Note:** Okay, this is my very first HP fic. I just felt like writing something short about Draco - at this very moment I have no idea what kind of fic this will be, how it will end, or anything. As per usual, I'm just gonna go with the flow. I do know that I'm going to write this fic in the same format as this book I've been working on, so any reviews will be extremely helpful. Constructive criticism is my best friend!

Silver Tears

_This is my life._ Draco Malfoy stood looking over the common room, watching his fellow Slytherins moving about like everything was perfectly normal. A group of first years huddling around the notice board, stressed because a notice had gone up over night announcing that all first year students were to go to their classes that day wearing nothing except black undergarments. The group of fifth years responsible for the phony message laughing in the back of the room. A small group of girls with school skirts shortened so much their panties were barely concealed. Scanning their faces, Draco realized he'd slept with more than half of them. The thought disgusted him, yet made him feel a sort of smug pride at the same time. That just disgusted him even more.

Draco's usual grace was replaced with a sort of agitated rush as he exited the common room for breakfast. He didn't know why, but lately all of the pranks the students enjoyed pulling had really been annoying him. All of it seemed so small and trivial lately... It was as if Draco was comming to realize he'd been living sixteen years without purpose, been wasting precious life on nothing, and such thoughts made him feel like he was struggling to stay surfaced above boiling water - that he was suffocating. _Why can't I stop it?_

_How do I get control? _

The chatter of his peers accompanied by the clatter of plates and silverware greeted Draco as he exited the dungeon stairwell. Blaise Zabini stepped in front of his path, a mischevious grin ghosting across his features. "Hey, Malfoy. We just found out the password to the Gryffindor common room! Care to join us as we destroy the lion's den whilst they eat breakfast?" Blaise seemed to be beside himself with glee.

"Nah, I don't really feel like it." Malfoy moved around Blaise. Suddenly breakfast was the last thing on Draco's mind - he wanted nothing more than to get away from the noise, the people; everything.

"You know, you're just not fun anymore." Normally Blaise's comment would have stung, but it just washed off of him. Soon he was walking across the grounds, searching for a place to hide from his first few periods. There was no way he was going to sit through History of Magic or Charms that day. It would just be too much. Draco sighed as the scent of the wet grass drifted through his senses, and paused in a space hidden by cluster of boulders. Titling his head back, Draco examined the light grey sky, and smelled the approaching rain in the air. Draco sighed and fell backwards, stretching his arms out and just letting the warm breeze watch over him. He listened to the grass rustling, and the Whomping Willow creaking in the distance.

_Why can't I have more moments like this? _Draco's eyes were sad as he watched the gray clouds move against each other, thinking about his life. Nowadays, Draco avoided ever taking his shirts off - and when doing so became necessary, he would only strip in the dark, where he couldn't see _it_. What he was ashamed of, and knew would never fade away. Draco glanced over at his left arm, concealed by the black sleeve of his school robes. He drew in a shuddering breath and focused his gaze towards the lake, trying not to think about it. Trying to ward off the memory that always flashed when he thought about his mark. "No," He mumbled a soft protest as his mind disobeyed him and the scene was dragged before his eyes. "Not this again..."

_"NO!" Draco's scream was desperate, wild. "Please, please don't make me do it! Please! No, I can't! No!" Draco's voice cracked again and again as he fell onto his knees, shaking with dry sobs._

_"Master, I am sorry! He should know better!" Voldemort watched with cool satisfaction as Narcissa slapped Draco across the face. "How dare you act so shamefully!" She spat, ignoring the wild despair in her son's features. "The Dark Lord has honored you with the most important of missions, yet you act entirely ungrateful. You should be ashamed! No son of mine will disrespect his master so!" Narcissa slapped him again, blue eys glowing with fury._

_"BUT I CAN'T!" Draco lay in a heap on the floor, grunting with pain as his mother aimed a kick at his chest. "I WON'T!"_

_"Oh yes, you will." Both Draco and his mother were silent at Voldemort's voice - Draco continued to shake on the floor, his breathing ragged and holding a slight whimper. "Be gone, Narcissa. I wish to speak with young Draco alone."_

_Had it been anybody else speaking, Narcissa would've resisted. But Voldemort did not give requests - he gave orders that were to always be followed. Narcissa bowed and quickly obeyed, Draco choking back a plead for her to stay; how could his mother do this to him? How could she bring him to this terrible creature, and leave him alone in his presence? And why? What had Draco done to deserve this?_

_"I am disappointed. I had expected better of you, Draco." Voldemort took one, two, three steps forward, now a mere five feet away from the terrified young boy. "UP! I will not have you cowering like a filthy muggle in my presence! You are a pure-blood, now ACT AS SUCH!" Draco didn't have the oppurtunity to obey, however, as a spell captured his body and roughly pulled him onto his feet. "Now, speak to your master."_

_"I've never killed before," Draco knew better than to look Voldemort in the eye. He didn't want to, anyway. Remembering his Occlumency lessons with Bellatrix, Draco wrapped the skill around himself like a blanket, attempting to force his heart into a calm beat._

_"Everyone has to start somewhere. You WILL complete this mission for me Draco. Do you know why?" Voldemort moved closer, cupping Draco's face in his cold, bony hand and forcing him to meet his fierce red gaze. Draco shook his head slightly, unable to make noise. "Because if you disobey me - if you fail - I will torture and kill every surving member of your family. And I'll make you watch. I'll make you so miserable, make you feel so much pain, that you'll beg to die. Do you understand?" Draco nodded stiffly, biting back tears as the horror of his mission struck him full on._

_"Excellent." Voldemort waved his wand, and within an instant the room was filled with bursts of dark grey smoke, rushing about and hitting the floor in various places. Each time an individual collumn of the smoke hit the floor, a Death Eater rose in its place. Soon Draco and Voldemort were surrounded by a massive group of the Dark Lord's followers, and Draco had never felt more trapped in his life._

_"Now, to ensure your loyalty..." Suddenly Draco screamed. Pain, pain like he'd never imagined to be possible, had closed around his left arm and held it in a terrifying vice. It shot upwards to his shoulders and spread, engulfing him as his shrieks rang about the large room. He couldn't even remember falling to his knees. All Draco knew was the seemingly endless pain that was swirling about him as darkness creeped in through his open mouth, ears, nose and eyes. His eyes then burned and his vision swam, the crowd of black-clad Deat Eaters blurring and spinning about him. Tears streamed down his face as it seemed someone was taking a white hot blade and slowly carving a design into his skin. He once again fell to the floor, thrashing about and clutching his arm._

_"No, no, no, NO! NO!" Again and again he screamed, his fear mounting as Voldemort and the others began to laugh and jeer..._

Draco flinched when his spirit seemed to fall back into his present form, still shaking as he drew his arms in to wrap around himself. That retched little halfblood was now determining his fate for him. Draco felt a flood of hatred towards his parents. How could they ever even THINK of crawling around at his feet? Honestly! But now Draco was left with no choice. He could not resist Voldemort - there was no escaping him. And while he knew he wasn't likely to succeed in killing Dumbledore, he'd rather face a duel with the old wizard than the wrath of the Dark Lord.

His tears began to fall more thickly, warm on his wind-chilled face. Merlin, he didn't want to do it. He wasn't a killer, and he never intended to be. Draco had always believed that if his parents wanted to be Dark wizards, that was all well and good, and that he would just stay out of it. But then his father had to go and screw everything up, and Draco was left to face the consequences. Since he had left Voldemort's presence that night, Draco had toyed with the idea of running to Dumbledore and telling him everything. Thinking that if he did that, maybe Dumbledore would protect him. But not only did Draco know he would never be able to stuff down his pride enough, the young boy also had a feeling that the wise man already knew all about what was going on. But such things would be extremely dangerous for Draco, so he tried to avoid thinking about them.

Yet deep down, Draco knew the only reason he wasn't turning himself in was THEM. The family that had never known how to raise him, that abused him, and that was responsible for his current situation. They had set him on a deadly and painful path, yet he still cared for them. Draco was willing to do just about anything to keep his mother alive. His small, fragile mother whom had thrown herself at him after 'the incident', apologizing and sobbing and begging for his forgiveness. Narcissa was so horrified with her sons mission, and the way she'd treated him, Draco had actually avoided leaving her alone for too long, fearing he would find she'd killed herself in her despair. Weekly letters to each other kept him calm, however, and Draco stayed in Dumbledore's presence, quietly planning his murder.

Drops of rain began to fall from the sky, and Draco closed his eyes as they slipped onto his face. Right then, that very moment. That's all he cared about. A time he didn't have to think about his doomed future.

"Malfoy?" Said boy jolted up, looking for the source of the inquiring voice. His eyes fell upon Harry Potter himself, looking worn-out and weary. The usual flush of hatred and annoyance was absent from Draco's body as he looked upon his rival, slowly getting to his feet.

"What is it?" Draco forced himself to be civil. Because frankly, he just saw no point in being cruel.

"Erm... Well, um, are you... are you alright?" Potter's eyebrows were wrinkled in a questioning, curious way, and his typical Gryffindor personality worked through Draco's skin in a warm, reassuring way rather than the usual irritating way.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why is it you ask?" He narrowed his eyes slightly, prepared to go with it if Potter chose to pick a fight.

"Well it looks like you were crying pretty hard... and I could've sworn I heard someone shouting a few minutes ago..." Potter looked away for a few minutes, not sure himself why he was even bothering with the prat.

"I haven't been crying! It's just the rain." Even as he mentioned it, the rain began to fall slightly harder, enveloping the two in a curtain of warm drops of water.

"Rain doesn't make your eyes look red and swollen, Malfoy."

"Damn it all!" Malfoy swiped his sleeve across his eyes, pushing back frustrated tears. And somehow he was relieved that it was Potter seeing him cry; not anybody else. It was strange, because Draco would have expected hating Potter to see him like this. "I'm just... I have a lot to think about, okay?"

"Okay, okay. I was just asking." Harry took a half step back, ready to retreat. This was getting a bit too alternate-universe for his liking. "I'll just, um, leave you alone."

"No, wait!" He'd said it before he'd even realized the words wanted to come out. When Harry turned back to face him, Draco realized that the last thing he wanted that day was to be alone.

"What is it?"

But Draco had no answer. He looked down and felt the tiniest of blushes grace his cheeks as he shrugged, wondering why it had to be Potter of all people. But he knew he trusted nobody more to keep his weakness a secret, because there was nobody he considered to be more his equal. So if he was so desperate for the comfort of company, wouldn't Potter be the best option. Suddenly Draco felt Harry's presence move closer, and he looked up. Potter wasn't even half a foot away from him.

"Look, if you need to say something, tell me. I won't repeat it - I'll forget it instantly if you want. But I'll try and help...if you let me." Harry had no idea what he was doing, but he decided to run with it. He spent too much time over thinking things - for once he was going to act on impulse. Harry's breath caught slightly as grey eyes locked onto green, and he felt his own sadness at the tears he saw welled there. Carefully, he cupped Draco's soft cheek, moving closer as the blonde boy released a shivering breath, eyes closing and one tear, silver in the afternoon light, drifted down his cheek. Harry brushed his fingers across them and leaned forward, kissing the damp trail and stroking Draco's other cheek with his free hand.

Well, if he was going to let impulse take him this far, he might as well let it carry him all the way.

Draco's eyes snapped open when he felt warm lips connect with his own, pressing yet not demanding. He stood there as Harry moved his lips slightly, and warmth seemed to flow from his mouth to the rest of his body. Slowly, carefully, Draco closed his eyes and accepted the kiss. He wrapped one arm around Harry's back and buried his fingers in locks of dark black hair. A soft moan sounded from his throat, and Harry embraced him. Draco was surprised by how much he loved the feel of Harry's arms around his waist; the way their lips molded and slid against each other. When Draco felt a warm tongue stroke his lower lip, he opened his mouth and invited Harry's tongue in, engaging in a slow and sensual rythym. The pair pulled each other closer, engrossed in these new feelings, and absorbed by where their impulses had brought them.

After awhile, Draco was surprised to find that he was on his back; Harry was a pleasant weight on top of him, hands exploring one another slowly. There was no rush, and no definite meaning to where this was going. Draco was sure he didn't have intimate feelings for Harry, and Harry was sure of the same thing. But they were too comfortable, too eased by the kiss, to put a stop to the activity.

The couple rolled so that Draco was half on his side, with Harry still sort of on top of him. They pulled back for a moment, Harry realizing that Draco's hand had sneaked under his shirt, rubbing his smooth chest, and that his own hand was massaging Draco's outter thigh, pulling it took hook around his waist. Harry placed a series of kisses on Draco's neck and jaw, slowly grinding his erection against Draco's leg and moving his thigh against the blonde's crotch at the same time. Draco gasped and moaned, tilting his head back to give Harry further access to his neck.

After a few minutes of such minstrations, Harry looked Draco in the eye.

"Look, I don't know why we're doing this, or what this is. All I know is that I want this, and to have it not effect us in the future." Harry himself didn't know what he was saying, but Draco seemed to find a meaning to it.

"Just enjoy living in the moment, Potter. Because I have a feeling that after today, doing so won't be possible for either one of us." Harry responded with another kiss, embracing his rival further.

Neither noticed that the rain had stopped, or that they were now missing their third class of the day. They cared about nothing at the moment, and simply did what their bodies wished them to do. Because even though Draco knew the storm of his life was approaching, he was determined to ride the calm that always comes before hand. And the warmth of his rival's embrace provided him the best calm before the storm.

-------------------

Okay, so I know this kind of disregards pieces of HBP, and I know the story doesn't seem to have a plot. But you see, it wasn't supposed to. :)


End file.
